


Prologue: Episode 6. Making Up.

by MyBeautifulDecay



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:39:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6911284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBeautifulDecay/pseuds/MyBeautifulDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a divergent idea of how Claire and Jamie could have made up after the end of 205.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue: Episode 6. Making Up.

“Suzette!” Jamie stamped through the apartment, his ire only enhanced by the lack of presentation the house usually maintained. He’d been away for two days and three nights, unable to bring himself to be in Claire’s presence. She’d asked him the unthinkable and now her face only mingled more with his nightmares.

He’d sequestered himself away at Maison Elise, drinking away his pain until he felt numb with it. But as the days passed he realised he’d soon have to return to his duties. To Jared’s business; to his staff; to his wife.

He pulled back the bedsheets, almost tearing the fabric with the force of it, cursing in Gaelic as he went. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Beneath the heavy coverlet, stained into the thin fabric lining the mattress was a large red pool. Dried now but still a sharp shock. Blood. His eyes darted quickly, he threw the sheets aside, his hands flailing as he searched out someone, anyone.

Claire. Where was she? Had she been hurt? Was it the bairn? The questions flew around him in the silence of the apartment. He’d never forgive himself if she’d come to harm whilst he’d been away.

“Murtagh! SUZETTE!” He bellowed, his voice carrying from room to room. His heart was pounding now, sweat gathering on his brow as he paced nervously.

“Oui, Monsieur! You were asking for me?” Suzette called from the door of the bedroom, her French lilt softening the English she spoke.

“Where is my wife? There is blood in the bed…”

“Oui, she is in the alcove. We have tried to get her to come out, to see the doctor. Alas, she will not.” Jamie’s glare was harsh and Suzette took a step back. She’d been frightened for the mistress, but unable to coax her from her hiding place. She’d heard the blazing row the few nights before, not the entire context, but she knew Lord Broch Tuarach had been in a terrible state when he’d left the house.

“Monsieur Murtagh tried too, my lord, but she will not be moved.”

Needing to find Claire he turned and sped off, his boots slipping on the hard floors in his hurry. If she or the child were in danger, surely she would have contacted Mother Hildegarde. But he kent how stubborn she could be, and they’d both been in and incredibly emotional state when he’d left her.

He reached the twin doors to their sanctuary and placed his hands atop them. Only the week before this had been their safe place, their haven. They had made love under the blue moon. Now it held all manner of unknown challenges. Jamie’s hands shook as he pushed. The doors didn’t move. She’d jammed them shut. His head fell with a thump against the wooden panels.

For a moment he simply stood, the words failing to come to him. What could he say?

“Claire.” He muttered, hopefully loud enough for her to hear.

“Claire, it’s me…it’s Jamie.” He tried to keep a calm note to his voice but inside he was screaming.

A small scraping echoed before the doors slid open. His head fell from the panels as he lifted his eyes. She had her back to him, the white of her shift stained the same off-red as the bedsheets. He took one step forward, aching to touch her. But he didn’t.

“Claire, have ye? Is the…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He wished she’d turn so he could tell whether the bairn was still safe.

“It’s stopped now. I’m alright. T-the baby…is alright.” Her voice was almost a wisp on the subtle breeze that flowed through the apartment. He could hear the sadness in her voice, he kent very well that she wasn’t convinced of that.

He reached his hand out and drew it along her spine, tracing each knot through the flimsy material of her soiled shift.

“What can we do, Claire?” The hopelessness in his tone made her shudder.

“Nothing. Just wait.”

She seemed to flop all of a sudden, her legs giving way beneath her. Jamie rushed forward, pulling her limp form against his chest. She immediately coiled around him sobbing relentlessly as he carried her over to the settle. He wanted so badly to take her back to bed, but as it was he didn’t want her any more upset than she was.

He placed her softly against the silk fabric, pulling his plaid loose to cover her. She was pale, crying and shaking. His heart sank. She’d suffered through this entire ordeal by herself, shut herself away from the servants and Murtagh. He could see the anguish in her eyes.

“Why did ye no’ go to L'hôpital, Claire? Or get Murtagh to come and fetch me? Why did ye suffer here all alone?” His fingers ran patterns over her clammy forehead and he watched on as she closed her eyes and licked her lips.

“Isn’t this what I deserve, to be punished?” Jamie felt all of the blood leave his body, his hand stilled and he fell to his knees by her side.

“No! Mo nighean donn, no! Dinna ever say that again, do ye hear?” Shaken as he was by her words and desolate tone, he managed to pull himself together. He was mad at her, so angry. But she didn’t deserve to lose their child.

“I love you, Jamie. So much.” She sucked in a breath, her chest stuttering as she sobbed. “I never wanted to ask that of you, I need you to know that. I need you, I love you. I’m sorry.” She curled herself around her belly now, hiding her face under piles of her billowing curls. Her shoulders shook with the weight of her decisions.  
His heart broke all over again.

“Enough, my Claire. We are as one, are we no’? I canna listen to ye make such judgements of yerself. I shouldna ha’ ever left ye here, alone.” He moved her a little and folded himself around her, bringing her head to rest in the crook of his neck as his arms ran over her neck, back and shoulders. Soothing her.  
“Please forgive me, Jamie.”

“Aye, a gràidh. Nay more. We’ll see to it, together. Hush now and rest. Think no more about it. I love ye, Sassenach. So verra much.”

Claire hiccuped and fisted her hands in his shirt, her tears falling and mingling with his as they lay together, healing each other with touch alone. Praying that all would be well. Each reaching beyond the other for some manner of faith to guide them through. As one mind. As one flesh.


End file.
